


They're coming to take me away.

by iamaturtle



Category: South Park
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Gore, Schizophrenia, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamaturtle/pseuds/iamaturtle
Summary: Tweek's not okay.Will Craig help?
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	They're coming to take me away.

He takes out his paper knife from under his desk.

Hesitantly, he puts it aganist his skin.

Sobbing, he closes his eyes untill they hurt.

Cut after cut, he thinks about his miserable life.

He texted _him_ a while ago.

_I loved you. Goodbye_.

Shallow ones were made first. He opens his eyes.

It stings. The way blood pearls up on his wrist makes him dizzy. His throat clenches. Quickly breaking into cold sweat. He can feel the weird, stirring feeling in his gut. But he's still doing it.

Blood dripping from the deep cut.

He can't stop. It's staining the bedding. Fresh, rich crimson aganist dried, brownish stains from earlier.

But he doesn't care.

The blade slices easier and easier. He watches the dark liquid slowly going down his arm. More and more lines appearing. So many, that he can't count them anymore.

His arm is ice-cold now. He wishes someone could hold it. Kiss every single knuckle. Just like _him_. 

He cries out even louder. 

He can feel the nausea creeping it's way in. Sour taste filling his mouth. He chokes, dropping the blade onto the bed. His throat and nose burns as the acidic juices are making their way out. But almost nothing is coming out, aside from yellowish substance filled with undigested unnamed remains of his lunch.

He can feel himself slowly blacking out. He hopes that his _best friend_ will check his phone. Maybe he will get help? Tweek doesn't care.

For now, he just hopes that he will die before they find him.

Before blacking out, he can hear his name being called. Doors being slammed aganist the wall. Loud, thumping noises, getting closer and closer to his bedroom.

... _fuck_.

**Author's Note:**

> *written by an actual suicidal person*  
> *I'm from Poland and my English is kinda... uhhh... yeah*


End file.
